


soft landing

by brandywine421



Series: soft [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: "Part of the deal was you taking care of yourself, too, but C minus for effort," Foggy hissed, redirecting in the opposite direction to the bathroom until Matt broke free."Not here.  Will you call me a cab if I promise to call you as soon as I get home?"  He moved his hand to the wall and left tiny smudges of blood on the paneling.  "Please.""Compromise," Foggy said, testing out the conditions and enfolding him in a hug.  Matt leaned his head against his shoulder which was unexpected and escalated his growing concern.  "Ten count and tell me exactly what you need."*Post Season-3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately picks up post finale.

"Foggy. I should go," Matt says, catching his elbow and making sure to flash his best - innocent and charming - smile at Aunt Lucy.

"Already?" It's code for ' _you promised to stay at least three hours after ghosting us for months asshole_ ' but Matt doesn't seem to remember that part of the agreement.  It isn't promising for follow-through after all the time they'd put into outlining it on the white board.

"I'm supposed to be honest, right?" Maybe Matt does remember.

He steers him toward the wall of coats and conveniently Karen. "Of course."

"My head is killing me and I think I'm bleeding through my shirt," Matt replies under his breath, raising his hand to his speckled side.

"Part of the deal was you taking care of yourself, too, but C minus for effort," Foggy hisses, redirecting in the opposite direction to the bathroom until Matt breaks free.

"Not here. Will you call me a cab if I promise to call you as soon as I get home?" He moves his hand to the wall and leaves tiny smudges of blood on the paneling. "Please."

"Compromise," Foggy says, testing out the conditions and enfolding him in a hug. Matt leans his head against his shoulder which is unexpected and escalates his growing concern. "Ten count and tell me exactly what you need. Everyone in this room knows how important Father Lantom was to you and it'll play up your early exit. What number are you on?"

Matt shudders and Foggy shakes his head at his looming mother to warn her off. "Give me another ten."

Foggy waits and watches Karen gathering Matt's coat and cane. He mouths to her 'cab' and she nods. Thank God for Karen Page.

"Okay. I need...to lie down," Matt says softly.

"Go straight home and call me," he whispers. "We left the keys to your new locks with Fran."

Matt doesn't pull away yet but flinches as if betrayed. "You _wouldn't_."

"Call me when you get there and I'll tell you where we hid them. Deal? Ten minutes."

"Fifteen. Compromise.  I'm probably going to vomit if your mom makes me get in the car with that casserole," Matt says suddenly and Foggy changes the plan.

"Compromise _denied_. You love Nelson leftovers."

"I need to lie down more than I need to eat. Solids can be tricky," Matt admits and Foggy knows for sure that a crash is imminent. The hell does he mean by 'tricky'?  "Fifteen minutes. Stay, make sure Karen gets home and your family's steady. I'll call you when I get to the apartment. Please don't make me talk to Fran."

Karen drapes Matt's coat over his shoulders and slides the cane into his hand. "Cab's out front. I assume you're calling us in ten minutes?"

"Fifteen. Thank you," Matt says, kissing her cheek and disappearing before he has to face the gauntlet of goodbyes.

"Is he all right?" his mother demands, arms full of leftovers.

"Long day and we're going to check on him on our way home," Karen answers.

"From what I've heard, he hasn't been home in weeks, make sure his fridge is full before you leave him there to starve," she says firmly. "Bess Mahoney says he cleared his plate at her house and he barely touched his casserole."

Damage control. "Ma, that was his second plate you saw him cleaning up, please don't add him to meals on wheels again."

She shoves the Tupperware into Karen's hands. "Fill. Up. His. Fridge."

"Yes, ma'am."

 

* * *

 

"You should try and get him in a program if he's really trying to be a productive member of society again," Marci yawns. "And he shouldn't be drinking or he'll trade in one addiction for another. I can talk about him now, your mom said," she adds.

"Again, Marci, Matt's not a drug addict," Foggy sighs. "He says I can tell you once we're married."

That catches her full attention and she elbows him across the leftovers that Karen hadn't snitched when she got out of the shared cab. "Wait, what?"

"You hate him," Foggy admits. "I'm not holding that against you because Matt has never let you see the sides of his personality that aren't set to 'asshole'. It's not drugs or alcohol or gambling - that would be so much simpler."

She slaps him gently on the cheek to get his full attention and then takes his hand. "He said you could tell me? Really?"

He nods. "Secrets and lies are itemized in our friendship contract and he made a special amendment for that."

"I'll be sure to act surprised and scandalized," Marci grins. "I have a tally of how many times you *almost* told me but you never broke the bro-code."

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing," she says cheerily. "For now, just tell him that I have a good number for a sex addiction counselor when he's ready."

The cab pulls to a stop outside of Matt's building and the driver agrees to wait once Marci provides him a fork and personal tub of casserole.

He doesn't take any upstairs and he doesn't knock, testing his personal set of keys to get into Matt's apartment before Fran decides to snoop.

Matt's lying down but there's a trail of clothes that ends at the couch where he's claimed one cushion to curl his entire body to fit under the thin throw blanket. At least the bandages look clean so he's accomplished the 'take care of himself' checkbox before collapsing.

He refills the empty Brita water pitcher and makes sure the hot water runs from the taps in the kitchen and bathroom.  He attaches Matt's phone to the charger and makes sure the volume is on high.

He gives himself five minutes before the cab honks and goes to work stripping the stale sheets from the bed after the Feds' visit. He doesn't remake it, unfolding a set of blankets that don't seem too gross into a rectangle that will fit the Devil in his current fetal position size.

Foggy hesitates to shake him awake but Matt would have sensed his presence already if he wasn't fully asleep. "Matt? You think you can make it a little bit further, buddy?"

He keeps his voice low and calm and tugs on his wrist until Matt's nostrils flare. "Fog?"

"Yeah, got your bed fixed for you," Foggy lies. Matt finally uncoils and stumbles to his feet but Foggy holds him steady. He makes a mental note of the rosary clutched in his free hand. That's a good sign for all of them, he hopes.

"Thanks. Tomorrow, not early," Matt mumbles, sinking to his knees on the bed and tucking the loose blankets around him without hesitation.

"Sure to all that," Foggy replies, smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Foggy slides the key in the lock as he knocks, following protocol so Matt can't nail him on a technicality. He doesn't expect the small nun from the church attack to be waiting inside with a startled expression. "Oh. Hello, Sister."

Matt is territorial about his personal space and that extends to his apartment and Foggy considers how much he would offend God to kick a nun out of a blind man's apartment.

"Foggy. This is Sister Maggie, she's a friend," Matt calls from the kitchen. Since he seems to be sitting shirtless at the counter - she must be a friend that 'knows' his alter ego. "She's imposing."

"Then I assume we're going to get along great," Foggy says, shaking her hand with a bright grin. "He's letting you check him over?"

"He asked me to bring his medical records," Sister Maggie replies tersely. "Now that you've succeeded in convincing him to see a doctor - "

" _Eventually_ ," Matt cuts in.

"They should be aware of the extent of his injuries," she continues. "We kept him sedated for weeks because he fights like a wet cat." She picks up a small swab and begins tapping a salve over the healing stitches and scars. Matt doesn't flinch.

He's comfortable with her and Foggy has - so many questions. "Weeks?"

"I don't remember much," Matt confesses.

"Sedation does that," Sister Maggie snorts.

"Lost my hearing and smell for a while. It was...difficult. I made Sister Maggie's life very difficult," Matt corrects as if he can feel her giving him a look.

Foggy reaches out and squeezes his shoulder before he can regret it. "Dude. No wonder you were out of your damn mind, sorry Sister. We'll definitely add a CT scan into your future. Thank you for getting your medical records."

"We drew up guidelines," Matt tells the nun and Foggy's shocked again at the closeness between them. "As friends, he has a limited right to know my health status. Physical and mental, when necessary."

"Faking his own death counts as necessary," Foggy says when the woman gives him a long look. "So you can mark me down as next of kin if he turns up looking like - well, **this**."

"Noted," she says, returning her attention to covering the stitches with light bandages. "So I've met Karen and Foggy, who's Elektra?"

Foggy shakes his head but Matt visibly tenses, jaw clicking. "It's in the guidelines. We're not allowed to talk about her."

"He called out for her," Sister Maggie persists.

"My sheets still smell like her," Matt whispers.

"Wait, she came here before - okay, not talking about it - that's the 'back off' face," Foggy explains to Sister Maggie.

She snickers, sounding oddly like Matt. "I know that face. You shouldn't avoid your grief."

"It's complicated." Matt closes his mouth abruptly and Foggy feels the need to intervene.

"Father Lantom helped him through it the first time but her death didn't quite stick," Foggy says. Matt flinches at his last word and he curses internally. "Sorry. Uh, yeah, that guy's buried out in Jersey, if you want to go spit on his grave sometime."

"Fog," Matt waves his hand.

Sister Maggie glances between them and nods to herself. "Okay. I think I need to see these guidelines."

"They're protected by attorney-client privilege," Matt says. She pats his cheek, fond, and he smiles. Matt Murdock smiles from an unprompted touch?. _The hell._

"Fine. I've imposed long enough. Mr. Nelson, it was very nice to meet you," she says, washing and drying her hands before shaking his hand firmly. "Please feel free to call me if Matthew requires the Lord's guidance, or antibiotics."

Matt frowns. "Maggie."

"' _Sister_ ' Maggie, don't be rude, Matty," Foggy corrects and walks her to the door to take her number. "Thank you for taking care of him when we couldn't, please don't hesitate to impose on Matt at any time if he lets you patch him up this easily," he adds in a stage whisper.

"We're going to be good friends, Mr. Nelson. Goodbye, Matthew."

Matt's wearing a shirt when Foggy returns to the kitchen but he's tilting slightly to the side. "Hey. She seems nice."

Matt blinks at him. Foggy doesn't miss the glasses but he's never going to say that out loud. "Karen didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Matt gingerly stands, supporting himself with the counter and turning his back to him. "She's my mother. Don't make it a thing."

Foggy stares at him for a long moment while the pieces fall into place. "Wait."

"It's not a _thing_. I probably won't be buying her a mother's day card but we - we're friends."

"You're _friends_ ," Foggy states. "The mother that abandoned you when you were a baby - lives in the orphanage, shit, blocks away from where you - "

Matt sighs. "She had postpartum depression and - I think it was safer for me to be with Dad at the time. I - I was upset when I found out but I - it was a long time ago. We might not be family but, friends we can do."

Foggy pulls him into a hug and Matt gives him a full fifteen seconds before swatting him away. "Sorry, just - your mom, Matt, what the fuck."

"Tell me about it," Matt sighs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really going to stop adding to this. I swear.

 

Foggy glances at the clock and tries to ignore Karen's growing annoyance. "He's not late since we're not officially open yet."

"I know that."

"Then why are you being so weird about the clock?" she pushes.

He sighs. "He had a doctor's appointment this morning. I thought he'd be finished by now."

Karen puts down her half-emptied box and perches on the edge of the desk with him. "He probably just went home first to hide whatever prescriptions or advice they gave him."

The door opens and Matt steps in. "That would have probably been a better idea than coming straight here but I promised Foggy."

Foggy doesn't hide his relief and even dares a hug that Matt shakes off, the ten second grace period _denied_ today. "What happened? You look - "

Matt holds out a fistful of crumpled papers and Foggy realizes they're not in braille. These are his copies. "See for yourself. The friend contract stands, no renegotiations," he adds, taking Foggy's seat on the desk beside Karen but refusing her 10 second hug before she went for it.

Well, _that's_ not promising but Foggy lets the declaration stand while he scans the paperwork for whatever Matt's avoiding. "Physical therapy, that's not so bad. Your hip?"

"It's acceptable," Matt murmurs.

It's also not cause for renegotiation so he keeps reading until he hits the words that ping all his alarms.

"Well, the clinical depression diagnosis isn't a total surprise but do you want to clear up the next part, Matt?" Foggy asks carefully.

"I _told_ you that I didn't handle the loss of my senses. I _told_ you that I had a hard time."

"Major depressive disorder with suicidal ideation. That's more than a hard time," Foggy states.

Matt crosses his arms, defiant and initiating 'shut down procedure', _great_. Karen squares her shoulders and smacks him - **hard** \- on the back of the head. "Ow."

"You're updating the contract. Foggy and I both agree and that overrules your vote so we're fucking adding a whole new section for that," Karen says. "Matt. _Matt_."

"I'm not talking about this."

Foggy grabs his wrist and squeezes. "If you're not talking about it with us, you're going to talk to someone."

Matt flares his nostrils but takes a long moment before he speaks. "There was a time that I felt if I couldn't be Daredevil, then I had nothing left to live for. I - I _can't_ be blind, Fog. I _can't_ \- I'm _not_ \- I followed the rules, I was honest with the doctor and now you're making new rules and - "

"Pause," Foggy says, releasing his wrist long enough to embrace him and tuck his head into his shoulder. " **I'm** not doing anything. **We're** amending the self-care and honesty sections. _Buddy_ , come on. You knew this wasn't going to be easy, Asshole."

Karen smooths circles over his back and Matt doesn't pull away from Foggy's hold. It's a step - it's fucking the best they can hope for right now.

"I don't want to take medication. I'll see someone if you give me your word you won't make me take pills," Matt whispers.

"I give you my word we'll explore every fucking option available before I bring it up," he promises.

Karen curls her hand around his neck as he leans back. "We'll even throw in a clause promising not to harass you about your mood if you promise to tell us as soon as you start sinking."

Foggy shakes him firmly. "I'm not agreeing to that, but we'll discuss."

Matt swipes at his cheeks and straightens his glasses. "Not today. I'm done with talking today."

"We'll need some time to find a doctor that we can trust with your head, anyway," Foggy says.  
  
Karen kisses his forehead. "Fuck you. But thank you for telling us. Is there anything else?"

Matt sighs and Foggy turns immediately to look for the papers. "She wants me to gain ten pounds to reassure her that I don't have an eating disorder. Allegedly, my recent problems with food are psychosomatic."

"Huh. That's no problem," Foggy says, taking out his phone.

"Who are you texting?" Matt demands, suspicious but not threatening to curl up in a ball of Devil manpain again.

"Mom," Foggy replies.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ick, I switched from past tense to present at some point, I tried to fix it. Concrit is love, you guys.


End file.
